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Topics - Inso

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The Colouring-in Room / BIG Dwarfs.
« on: March 27, 2018, 06:49:46 PM »
Seeing as GW have a new Squat in the pipeline... This one, in fact:

I thought I would see what I could come up with to get into the spirit of things. This image is self explanatory:

I have another two on the go at the moment; one with a heavy-bolter and one with a flamer and they should be finished pretty quickly because of the minimal conversion work. I think that they will all be about the same height as the new Necromunda Squat so the big question is...

... where does it go from here?   :shock:

The Colouring-in Room / Demiurg.
« on: November 19, 2017, 08:16:03 PM »
To cut a long story short... I quite liked the idea of rock-dwarfs in space so I decided to put some together. I used some bits from various companies and based the troops around GW Kharadron Overlords with converted heads.

These three are the first of the troopers:

They represent (bottom row from left to right) a drone controller, leader and mech. After a little bit of negative feedback, the leader got a trim:

The idea is that each unit has the three troopers above in it and is accompanied by a range of drones; both ground and air based. The first drones are these:

I need to re-base them to match the Demiurg but they are painted and in storage somewhere so I will have to dig them out, at some point, to do it. I also need to tidy up the base of the drone controller that is posted below (the first one of the Demiurg that I have painted):

The next one to be painted will be the mech.

The Colouring-in Room / Grymn Martian Patrol
« on: July 17, 2017, 01:52:09 PM »
It was only a matter of time before I got some more Grymn on the go... here is the start of my Martian Patrol (after the terraforming has happened ;) ):

I still have a way to go yet... but it's highlighting and basing so it can't take too much longer... can it?

Here's an album with WIP photos to this point:

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Katja.
« on: September 14, 2016, 09:42:19 AM »

Katja sat silently on the makeshift bench and stared blankly at the pulse rifle on her lap. Her breathing was steady and her stare was fixed and distant. Scattered on the floor around her, were the bodies of her team-mates; victims of the war that raged outside.

Katja’s gaze changed. She sighed deeply, slapped her legs and said “no use sitting here” before getting a grip on her rifle and standing up. She closed her mind to what she was doing and rifled the bodies for ammunition and water before stowing the items in her webbing and preparing to exit the building. She crouched low and stood up before shrugging, in an over exaggerated way, to make sure that her newly issued, uprated, ballistic armour sat comfortably and allowed her to move freely before she checked her magazine to ensure it was fully charged.

“Here goes nothing” she thought; as she dashed into the street in a combat stance. The street erupted around her as small arms fire rippled across the ground from all angles but Katja managed to evade injury whilst heading in the direction of her fellow Grymn. She knew that she had about a mile of battle to survive and if she could manage that, she would find the protection of the Forward Operating Base (FOB). Jinking from side to side and using every tiny bit of cover, Katja was making good progress but when she rounded a corner too quickly she came face to face with four Dog-Soldiers. She cursed and instinctively dropped and rolled while she fired her weapon. The first of the Dog-Soldiers slumped to the floor with a neat hole through his forehead and the second fell with a vivid spray of bright blood from the side of its neck. The other two managed to overcome their surprise at the ferocity of the small attacker and return fire; wildly missing their target and allowing Katja to take down the third Dog-Soldier with a group of shots to the chest. Suddenly Katja felt the full impact of a heavy round on her chest; throwing her backwards and into a low wall. Her rifle hand went numb and she lost her grip on the weapon; she cursed as she heard it clatter to the ground.

The last of the Dog-Soldiers let out a guttural, growling laugh as it approached the prone figure of Katja; its bestial face showing dirty, yet extremely sharp fangs. Its loping gait allowed it to get up to a charging speed extremely quickly and it was scant seconds before it set upon Katja.

Instinctively, Katja rolled to one side and took the force of the bite on the right shoulder plate of her numb arm. In a single, smooth movement; using her left arm she quickly unsheathed her combat knife and thrust it upwards into the beasts exposed abdomen. She was rewarded with a pained yelp and the grip on her shoulder relaxed just enough for her to struggle free, roll to one side and thrust her knife into the base of the creature’s spine. It yelped again and began to flail about on the floor. Katja sheathed her combat knife and scrambled over to her rifle. She picked it up with her left hand and without pausing fired two blasts into the beast’s chest. It ceased flailing and became silent.

Katja knew she didn’t have time to waste so she threw her rifle sling over her shoulder to give her enough support to fire her rifle one handed and steadily made her way through the embattled streets towards the FOB. In just a few moments, she rounded a corner to see the armoured walls just a hundred or so metres away.

“Mayday, Mayday” she spoke breathlessly into her comms-set “Wounded in-bound to main gate. Cover required, Out”.

She paused for a moment before watching the two heavy gates open and a unit of power armoured troopers march out. She waved her rifle at them and they immediately converged on her position; surrounding her and protecting her with heavy shields. In a few moments, they were all inside the FOB and Katja was disarmed and ushered onto a stretcher before being taken to the medical facility.

“So… you say that you were shot in the chest by a Dog-Soldier and bitten on the right shoulder?” asked the medic.
“Yes, that’s what happened” replied Katja “My right arm went numb so I had to fight left handed”.
“Hmmm… let’s have a look” said the medic as he carefully removed her shoulder and body armour “There’s no sign of damage to your fatigues”.
The medic removed her shirt and examined her further. There was slight bruising to the right, upper quadrant of her chest and what looked like the imprint of a button just below her collar bone.
“How does your arm feel now?” he asked.
“I am starting to get the feeling back in my fingers, Thank you” Katja replied.
“Good” said the medic “it seems that you need to make sure that you don’t trap any buttons under your armour straps, otherwise you may end up with a dead arm”.
“What?” replied Katja “all I have is a dead arm?”
“Yes… and some slight bruising” replied the medic “it appears that the newly issued body armour works much better than the old stuff”. He lifted up the chest armour and showed the front of it to Katja. There was a very small dent in the front of it with a small amount of paint loss but apart from that it was unscathed. The shoulder guard fared less well because the scoring nature of the Dog-Soldiers teeth had managed to get a purchase and gouged the paint off in four neat lines, leaving deep scratches in the ballistic material beneath.

By now, Katja’s arm was feeling much better and after dressing, she left the surgery and reported to her leader.

“With this new, field tested, ballistic armour, I am confident that the protection it offers will greatly improve the efficiency and security of our troops on the ground” said the senior officer as he addressed the politicians and commanders around him “so it is recommended that our forces receive it as quickly as possible”.

“Agreed” they replied.

Libertee's Miscellaneous Musings II / KITTEN!
« on: August 09, 2016, 02:20:50 PM »
As a result of realising that when I start life outside the military, I will need to have a full time job (for mortgage payments and things), I will not be in a position to get the puppy I really want :(

So... in a bold move, I decided to get myself a kitten instead  :lalala:

His name is Sam and he is brilliant. He is not a cuddly kitten but he likes sitting next to me and he also plays rough... which is cool.

Here is an early picture of him:

I just thought I'd share :)

The Colouring-in Room / Robot Squad.
« on: February 07, 2016, 02:11:40 PM »
I made this robot a while ago... to act as a dreadnought for some converted space Dwarfs:

I then put together this robot... well... because I had spare components and thought I'd just build a robot:

After that I thought about what to do with them... and I decided that I could lump them together and add a few others so that is what I have done. The first one is painted, the second one is paint in progress and the third one... he's Tiny :) :

Tiny is inspired by Mongrol from the ABC Warriors but he won't be a copy. He's obviously WIP and has a way to go... but I have got his arms sorted out:

I have no idea where this little project will end up... but I expect it will get a few smaller robots at some point :).

Hasslefree / MOVED: more companions for Ulfred
« on: September 07, 2015, 12:22:25 PM »
This topic has been moved to [HF Suggestions board].

Hasslefree Babble / New Grymn?
« on: April 28, 2015, 04:25:11 PM »
I found out at Salute (from Kev) that there were WIP Grymn on Facebook so I went and had a look to see what was there and was rather pleased with the WIP Grymn that was on display.

I can't post a link (I'm at work and the security software won't allow it) but a description would be a slightly lighter armoured (and shorter) version of the 5 Eights with a cropped Grymn helmet.

From what I understand, these Grymn will replace any notion of modern Grymn (like the resin master that is in the HF store) because they are too generic.

I was also told that 6-12 of these new Grymn will be worked on while Kev travels to the US for a few weeks... so it is good news for us Grymn fanatics.

Just thought I'd share in case (as I was) you were unaware :)

General Ranting / Salute?
« on: April 10, 2015, 08:13:53 PM »
So... who's going to Salute this year?

I won't be there :( but I hope everyone who goes has a blast :)

Hasslefree Babble / Grymn Dropships
« on: March 21, 2015, 12:47:31 PM »
Dropships are the key to any planetary assault and the Grymn need them just the same as anyone else. As a result, I have trawled the interweb to try and find a better dropship than the Tau Devilfish (from Games Workshop)... and it seems that I have found something very nice...

The Vanir Dropship (from Art Crimes Productions):

Google Images:

It was the subject of a kickstarter and is not yet on public release... but it looks to be just the right size for a unit of Grymn.

It was designed for 15mm (with interior details suited for 15mm) but it is also being touted for 28mm use. Looking at the images, I think that human sized 28mm are on the border of believability but Grymn, being just a tiny bit taller than a standard 15mm trooper, would look fine. Take a peek and see what you think but I am really loving the design of the Vanir.

General Ranting / Moving on.
« on: February 03, 2015, 12:11:19 PM »
The next two years are going to be pretty big for me. I am planning to leave the military and set up home in Cornwall by the end of 2016.

It is a big step (especially seeing as all of my adult life has been spent in the Royal Air force) but I have come to the decision that the time has come for me to move on.

That means a host of things... buying a house, moving, leaving the security of the military, new jobs, new opportunities but most of all...

... it means that my hobby stash has to be dramatically thinned down.

Part of the reason for the thinning down is space. Then there is the demand it has on my spare time... it dictates terms and I want to reduce the burden it places on me. There is also the fact that I have a lot of stuff that I bought on a whim that is never going to be looked at.

So... with all that in mind... is E-bay the best option? If it is, I will be spending most of this coming year selling on E-bay because I have a LOT of stuff to get rid of.

What will I keep?

My Grymn
My beetlebots
My walkers/robot miniatures
My VOTOMS and certain model kits
Some of my Alien projects (visitors, Tyranids and Mushrooms)
One or two other bits and bobs

Everything else will be going (including a lot of converted/scratch sculpted stuff amongst the metal and plastic).

I think that I am doing the right thing because I am just fed up with all the clutter, fed up with having SO MUCH that needs working on and need to make a fresh start where I can have a reasonable amount of hobby stuff to keep me entertained and not so much that it becomes a chore.

So there it is...

Starting in May (once I've had a holiday after returning from the Falklands), I will be spamming everywhere with links to what I am selling. If anyone has seen stuff that I have posted that they might like to get hold of, please feel free to PM me and we can talk terms... unlike many hobbyists, I am not emotionally attached to my lead mountain so you never know... you may be able to get hold of a complete original :)

In the words of Bob Dylan... The time's they are a changin' :)

Random Chat / Sharclon Transport?
« on: January 26, 2015, 03:38:51 PM »
I saw this and for some reason, I immediately thought that it would make a great ride for a small army of Sharclons:

Looking at the size of it, I reckon you could easily fit 30 Sharclon warriors in it and all that would need altering would be the Eagle motif on the front.

I know it's £125.00 but it is pretty large. Definitely worth a look.

General Ranting / Christmas Greetings.
« on: December 25, 2014, 11:19:04 AM »
It's Christmas day so it seems fitting that I wish every one of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year  :D

If you don't do Christmas, I hope you aren't being too bothered by all the fuss and spend your holiday with the people you love doing whatever you want to :)

And for all of you who are working, travelling or away from home, have a good one, stay safe and I hope you get some quality time to make the best of things :)

Peace and love to you all :)

Ideas, Inspiration & Thoughts / Is there anyone left?
« on: December 20, 2014, 04:14:23 PM »
From what I have seen and heard in this little part of the forum, it would appear that there are only one or (at most) two people still doing this.

I would normally think about cancelling things now, however, I don't want to undermine the effort that anyone has put into this year's diorama of doom so...

If you are still on board and working on a diorama, with the hope of finishing it by the end date (24 Dec 14) please put your name below. If I don't get any responses, I'll call it a day for this year and pile more effort into the next one (with prizes and certificates and all that jazz).

I finally got around to taking an army pic of my Tunnel Fighters:

The only thing that needs finishing is the white vehicle... but I'll get around to that when I return from the Falklands in May :)

I think there are 116 Grymn, 2 OGrymn and 7 mini mawes from HF, in the army... plus all sorts of stuff from a variety of sources :)


Torsten looked to his left and right with a satisfied smile.  On both sides of him, in tight little groups were Grymn squads as far as he could see through the trees along the forest edge.  They all wore camouflaged paint and had leaf litter spread over their kit to disguise them even further.  Torsten looked out of the trees and into the distance.  Across the green fields were the specks of far-off enemy troops and vehicles.  They were getting nearer but were still far enough away for Torsten to breathe the air and calm his thoughts, ready for the battle ahead.
This day had been a long time coming.  Time and time again, the Sleiti had sent their minions to try and destroy the Grymn.  Time and time again, the Grymn had fought bravely and triumphed.  Today was going to be different.  Today the Sleiti had arrived in great numbers to do their own dirty work.
Torsten’s thoughts were distracted for a moment as a pair of short range, ground attack, fighters raced over his head towards the enemy.  He watched them streak towards the Sleiti lines at breakneck speed before unleashing a stream of rockets into the ranks of enemy troops.  It seemed impossible but none of the rockets hit their mark as they seemed to be deflected by some unseen force that sent them twisting out of control in all directions.  While Torsten watched the scene, a blinding, blue tinged search-light cut through the sky; vapourising the lead fighter and cutting the wing off the second one.  He watched as the stricken aircraft instantly went into a flat spin and impacted the ground in spectacular fashion.  Torsten thought how brave the pilots had been and made a mental note that he would personally mark their names on the wall of fallen; if he made it back himself.
It had taken a long time for the enemy to close but now Torsten could see them clearly.  The sleek biological walking machines held the flanks while the bulk of the troops were the lithe figures of the Sleiti nobles; the Fathers.  They strode purposefully forward with the arrogance of a prince out hunting game.  Behind the foot-troops were unusually shaped hover vehicles with bizarrely shaped weapons mounted on them.  Torsten looked at the enemy and opened a communications channel to his army leaders. 
“Ready the troops and prepare to engage on my command” said Torsten.
There was no reply but Torsten could hear the sounds of weapons being made ready.  He turned to the Grymn stood to his left and smiled a fatherly smile.  The young Grymn was nervous but still stood proudly next to Torsten.  In one hand, he held a pulse pistol and in the other he held a bugle.  His eyes were shining and he appeared to be waiting keenly for the order to come.
“Sound the order, Jergen” said Torsten.
Jergen raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the attack.  Almost as soon as the first note could be heard, ripples of gunfire blazed from the tree-line.  No sooner had the first shots been fired, the Grymn assault walkers burst from the trees and into the flanks of the Sleiti, engaging with their opposite numbers.  Huge plumes of earth began to erupt in the ranks of Sleiti troops as the artillery found their mark and bodies began to spin, broken into the air.
The Sleiti continued to close.
To his right, Torsten heard the roar of jump packs as Tiger squadron screamed over head.  They dropped like eagles on to the Sleiti bio-tanks and began to assault them with pistols and power weapons; tearing at the skins of the tanks like frenzied animals ripping into stricken prey.  In support, grav bikes from Raven squadron weaved around the vehicles; strafing any areas that weren’t covered by brightly clad Grymn.  Through it all he noticed Thor, Torge’s bodyguard OGrymn, lift the front of a bio-tank and roll it over onto its side before un-sheathing his power hammer from his back and smashing it into the soft, underside of the vehicle.  In moments there was a mix of bile, blood and gore spilling from the wounds caused by the furious onslaught.
Without warning, the battlefield seemed to sigh.  It was almost like someone taking a deep breath before exhaling.  Torsten instinctively ducked and shouted for everyone to take cover but it was too late.  The shockwave rippled from the centre of the Sleiti army and spread out, like the strands of a spider-web.  Every Grymn that it touched was sent flying outward, away from the battle in an uncontrolled and often painful spiral.  Every Sleiti that was touched remained completely unaffected.
The onslaught that followed was unlike anything that Torsten had ever seen.  The lead Sleiti opened fire for the first time with devastating effect, their weapons spewing forth a continuous beam of pallid blue light.  Everything it hit was thrown backwards with such concussive force that armour could be heard to crack under the pressure.  Grymn were dying in their droves.  Torsten watched in horror as Sigurd was torn in half by one of the beams, her entrails spilling out like the tendrils of a jellyfish.   She was not alone as Gunnar met a similar fate and young Tearl was decapitated in a spray of arterial blood.  Torge’s command unit was next to be hit but they were too quick and jumped clear, only losing two of their number to the horrific weapons.  All around the battlefield the blue lights were doing their evil work.  Grymn were being tossed about like rag dolls with few Sleiti falling in return.  Torsten was furious.  He could feel the rage building in him like an unstoppable tide.  It would not be long before the berserk rage would take him and he would get his revenge.  He looked to Jergen and said “sound the reserves”.
Jergen blew his bugle and did as was ordered.  A terse stream of notes blared across the battle field.  On both flanks, Grymn tanks emerged and began to fire their rail-guns and heavy pulse-guns into the Sleiti forces.  Some tanks were destroyed by return fire but others continued with their slaughter.  In moments some of the lithe walkers that the Sleiti had positioned to protect their flanks, moved to engage the Grymn tanks.  Torsten knew that his time had come.
“Jergen...sound the Krakken call” he said.
The bugle sounded a single piercing note that seemed to go on for ever and strike deep into the very heart of every Grymn on the field.  All the Grymn in combat seemed to be invigorated by the sound as they redoubled their efforts and strove to succeed where they had been failing a moment ago.
Torsten tilted his head back and let loose a war-cry that was echoed from various places behind him in the trees.  His eyes were glazed and the veins on his forehead were pulsing with uncontained fury as he began his headlong charge toward the enemy; his glowing power axe gripped in an unbreakable grip.  His white powered-armour shone brightly as its servo enhanced systems drove Torsten forward as fast as a speeding scout-bike.  Following in his wake were at least fifty other power-armoured troops and they were storming towards the enemy with equal rage and speed.  Each of them wore white armour and carried a power axe and a variety of heavy carbine weapons.  Within moments the white surge met the lines of enemy troops and sheer carnage occurred.  Sleiti began to get thrown in all directions as the glowing blades with all the servo-assisted might of the powered-armour reaped through them.  Limbs were hewn and entrails spilled as Torsten and his fellow Krakken tore into the Sleiti with such fury that none could stand before them.  Even when Broff was struck and his carbine carrying arm was torn off at the elbow, his fury enabled him to continue fighting.  He bowled into his aggressor and disembowelled him with a single upward stroke of his axe.
The Sleiti were in disarray as the furious onslaught of the Krakken continued to decimate their ranks.  Although the odd one or two had fallen, the white clad warriors were causing so much damage that something needed to be done; and quickly too.  The Sleiti began to fall back.  At first in an orderly manner but then in a panic as the Krakken kept pace with them and continued their work.  After a short distance the battlefield sighed for a second time as the strange Sleiti weapon fired again, throwing all the Grymn outward from the source and not affecting any Sleiti in the process.  Once the effect had finished and the Grymn soldiers started to find their feet again, a small group of Sleiti stepped forward with their arms held out to the side.  They had blank expressions but seemed to be glowing with an unnatural light.  Suddenly there was a high pitched sound that echoed through the minds of all the Grymn.  Almost as one, they held their hand to their ears and dropped to their knees as intense pain filled every fibre of their bodies.  Blood began to seep through fingers as eardrums burst.  Red tears began to drip from bleeding eyes as the pain increased to an unbearable level.  It seemed that nothing could be done to prevent the searing torture that was being inflicted on them.  The Grymn were falling and there was nothing they could do but lie down.
Almost as quickly as the pain arrived, it finished.  Torsten felt as though he had woken from a dream as his berserk rage had left him.  He tried to get to his feet but every fibre of his body ached and he felt a wave of nausea rush through him.
“Stay your hand master Gryyymn, it is not your time for the fight” echoed a whispering voice through his mind.
Torsten looked around but saw nothing except a sudden look of terror cross the faces of the leading Sleiti.  Almost serenely, one of them dropped to the floor.  After a short moment, the others followed suit.  All around the battlefield was quiet as Grymn started climbing to their feet and regaining their composure.  As they rose, they noticed that there were allies amongst them and they were striding purposefully towards the enemy.  They were twice the height of Grymn and were wearing a mix of light armour plates and long robes.  They either carried a staff or a rifle but very little else.   Their modesty was covered by a tabard but apart from that, not a lot more. 
Soon the newcomers engaged the Sleiti.  It seemed a strange sort of fight as there were only the sounds of enemy weapons and not the new Grymn allies.  Everything that was thrown at them was deflected by an unseen force and when they returned fire with rifle or staff, Sleiti just seemed to die for no obvious reason as the allies weapons emitted no signs of being fired.
The Grymn reacted to what was going on and began a charge toward the enemy lines.  With a roar they bounded towards the Sleiti as they sensed that they could achieve a victory.  After a few hundred yards they came to an abrupt halt as they hit an invisible wall and were consumed by waves of nausea.  A whispered voice filled their heads...
“It is not your time to fight young Gryyymn” it said.
All they could do was watch as their new allies committed genocide in front of the Grymn.  Every last Sleiti was found and killed.  Every animated weapon, destroyed.  Not a sound came from the allied weaponry and everything that was killed just seemed to fall down dead with no injury or suffering.  They just fell down dead.  It was warfare the like of which had never been seen by the Grymn before.  There was no marshal pride or dignity involved.  There was no glory or bravery.  It was just a silent cull that left only a single Sleiti alive and his name was Ieuan.
As the assembled Grymn and their allies gathered around the table, the Sleiti named Ieuan looked at each of them with an emotionless stare.
“The war with the Gryyymn ends now and will not resume for all future” said the whispered voice in the minds of all those present “you will return to your species and pass on this dictate”.
Ieuan nodded and was allowed to leave the assembly, board his ship and leave.  He did so with no emotion and no sound.  He didn’t even give a backwards glance as the door closed and his ship shimmered into the sky.
Torsten turned to his ally and said “Zoota, is it finally over after all these years?”
“Yes Tooorsten Gryyymn, it is over” replied Zuuh’tah.
The Grymn war with the Sleiti had ended and they could now settle on their world in the knowledge that they would have to flee no more. 
The only thing they had to do now was to find out more about their new allies...

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Stefan.
« on: October 08, 2014, 07:17:57 PM »

Stefan was a Grymn.  He was born on planet six; named so because it was the sixth planet settled since the freedom.  Planets one to five had been deserted by the Grymn because the Bohkin, followed by the Sleiti fleets, had found them.  The continuous fight and flight kept the Grymn fit, clever and on their toes; Stefan was no exception; being a veteran of many battles he now called planet nine his home…


‘Wake up Stefan…Wake up!’

‘Who…where’s Jack?  He owes me money…’


‘Get Kylie…NOW!’ 

Stefan launched himself from his bunk, he was already dressed and stank of mead, sweat and urine but his eyes were sharp and cruel.  He reached down to his bedside cabinet picked up an etched, silver SMG round and placed it in his pocket.  He then took a good draught from the bottle next to where the round used to be and turned to Sven, the young Grymn who had awoken him.

‘Well?  …Kylie?’

‘I don’t know who she is sir.’

‘Ha!  Of course you don’t, she’s my burner…and she’s a darn good one too.’

Sven went to the corner where a red burner sat neatly on a cushioned couch.  Along side it there were a small number of flasks and a box containing an immaculate weapon-cleaning kit.   He carefully picked up the weapon but in his haste it slipped from his grasp and the butt dropped to the floor.  Stefan crossed the room in a heartbeat and the back of his hand hit the young Grymn so hard across the jaw that he was out cold before he hit the floor.  He cradled Kylie and carefully inspected the weapon to make sure she wasn’t damaged.

‘Don’t worry Kylie; you’re in good hands now.’

Stefan looked at the prone Grymn; ‘More explaining to do’, he thought.

He grabbed his helmet and mask, buckled on his side pouches and spare flasks and left the billet with Kylie held firmly and a look of thunder on his face.

In the courtyard there was organised chaos.  Grymn were barking orders and following them; grabbing weapons and dashing off towards the sound of fighting.

‘Stefan!  Glad you’re still with us.  Follow Kjaran and reinforce the sun-side wall!’  Captain Torsten shouted.  He was a hulking figure dressed in powered armour, sporting a white-grey beard.

‘Yes Sir!’ Stefan replied.  ‘It’s a great day for it.’

‘Ha! It’s always a good day for killing Bohkin!’

Stefan smiled, shot a quick salute and strolled purposefully towards the sun-side wall.  When he arrived, there were many Grymn lining the wall and the Sangers, and they were all well equipped and battle ready.

‘Stefan!  Get yourself to Sanger two and prepare your friend.  We’ll funnel the filth towards you so you’d better be ready!’

‘I’m there, Kjaran…don’t fret yourself!’  He walked towards the Sanger and climbed through the small entry hatch.

‘By feth Stefan, you stink worse than a Dino-hound!  Did you sleep in a vat of mead?’

‘Antar, if it was anyone but you, I’d spit on your boots for that…but I suppose you’re right…there was a good lot of mead in my bunk this morning but I wouldn’t have drunk it a second time!’

‘Swamped again?  You’re back on form then you drunkard.’

‘Aye, I am that; a drunkard but I’m sober enough to burn a few nasties this fine morning.’

‘Well look to your front and keep your eyes peeled, the SMGs are chattering a welcome for them.’

Short bursts of controlled SMG fire rippled from the wall, followed by the whine of mini-guns and the roar of missiles.  Out across the fire-break the Dino-hounds broke from cover and piled forwards at break-neck speed; dodging the shot-falls and closing quickly on the walls.  There must have been a hundred of the multi-coloured, two limbed lizards and although they were starting to fall in the odd place, many of them were closing fast and would meet the walls in a few seconds.
Next to Stefan, Antar flicked the safety on his grenade launcher to fire, pointed the dangerous end through the fire-slit and pulled the trigger.  There was a deafening roar as the launch detonation echoed around the concrete Sanger, followed by a dull ‘crump’ as the anti personnel grenade exploded red-hot shrapnel; tearing the dinosaurs to pieces.

The Dino-hounds still kept coming, even though Antar pumped grenade after grenade into their ranks.  They were too close for grenades now and Antar drew his assault pistol and started firing single, aimed shots at the approaching creatures.

Stefan took a deep breath, fastened his mask and closed his eyes.  He thought of his beloved Kylie, how the Bohkin had captured, tortured and killed her; how they had left her bloodied, lifeless form nailed to a tree-stump; how they had taken her away from him…and his demeanour changed.  Gone was the brightness to his eyes.  Gone was the jovial banter.  Gone was any mercy.  Stefan needed this change before battle.  It was the only way he could deal with the terrible job he had to do.  It wasn’t easy listening to the sizzle of flesh or the screams of the burning.  It wasn’t easy watching figures wreathed in flame dissolving in front of your eyes.  It wasn’t easy, smelling the odour of death; so acrid that it clogged the filters in his mask and he could taste it.

‘My turn, I think’ He said to Antar as he also flicked his weapon’s safety to fire, pointing the nozzle through his vision slit.
‘Sing to me Kylie!’  He boomed as he squeezed the trigger and a huge jet of super heated chemicals spewed forth, vaporising the nearest of the Dino-hounds and throwing those following into disorganised panic.

‘It seems they don’t enjoy our welcome, eh Kylie?’ He said, his face set in a grimacing smile.

After a good few bursts of flame, Stefan watched as the remaining few Dino-hounds started running back towards the edge of the fire-break.  He always enjoyed this because the Bohkin were forced to detonate their collars when this happened to prevent the deranged creatures attacking their masters.  As expected, the remaining creatures started bursting apart.  Not long after the last one fell, the Bohkin broke cover and swarmed towards the walls; heavy weapons covering while they ran headlong into the maelstrom.

‘I’d admire them if it wasn’t for the fact that they are Bohkin scum.’ said Antar, whilst looking towards Stefan.

‘I’ll never admire them.’ He replied ‘They use their hounds to see where the guns are because they are too scared to approach us on equal terms’.  He snorted ‘they are cowardly fethers who deserve the death I give them…a bullet is too good for them.’

Stefan steadied himself as the Bohkin support munitions began to detonate around the fortifications.  He could feel the force through the ground and he could hear the cries of those thrown into the air or wounded or killed by the blasts.  The Grymn return fire was becoming a little sporadic as the lines faltered and needed reinforcing but it still carried on and the Bohkin were falling in their droves.
It wasn’t enough though.  The Bohkin were closing on the walls and now the ‘thwip’, ‘thwip’ of small arms fire could be heard as they came into range.
Antar holstered his pistol again and started launching grenades.  The smell of cordite permeated Stefan’s mask and he could taste the metal in it.  Stefan checked Kylie and made sure that her fuel tank was still fairly full.  He tapped the flasks on his belt and could feel that there was plenty of fuel left in them.  He looked out of the vision slit and could see the horde racing towards them.  Every now and again, plumes of earth burst into the air; taking with it a dozen or so Bohkin at a time but it wasn’t enough, they still kept coming.

Stefan put Kylies nozzle through the vision slit again and waited until the enemy was close enough to burn.  When they were in range he squeezed the trigger and the burning began.  After the first jet hit home, the Bohkin stopped in their tracks and started trying to avoid their burning comrades; who were now running wildly around, trying to extinguish the flames.  Bullets started hitting the Sanger as the Bohkin trained their weapons on the threat.  As they advanced, Stefan waited and then unleashed another blast of flame; toasting the nearest and causing chaos again.  This exchange happened again and again.  The Bohkin small arms turned to grenades and heavier weapons but the Sanger still held and Antar and Stefan were kept safe.
After what seemed an age, the attack on the Sanger faltered and the Bohkin started running in all directions, shooting into the air.  Stefan smiled as he heard the whine of turbo-fans and pulse-jets.  Flame and Tiger squadrons had arrived.  Flame Squadron was made up of jet-bikes armed with mini-guns and missiles and they were busy strafing the Bohkin lines.  Tiger Squadron was made up of jump-troopers, armed with pistols, power-blades and a complete disregard for their personal safety.  Lieutenant Torge was renowned in the mess hall for causing affray and he was the leader of Tiger Squadron.  Stefan watched as the bikes disappeared and the Tigers ripped into the enemy troops with such ferocity that the Bohkin were fleeing in panic.  As the Tigers continued their work, the light infantry started advancing on the remaining enemy, killing those foolish enough to remain in the fight.  The Bohkin were finished and those that could do fled the field to lick their wounds.

 ‘It’s done Antar; they’ve finished their game for the time being.’

‘Aye and they’ve left me a gift.’

Stefan looked towards Antar and noticed that he looked a little grey in the face.  There was a red stain emanating from his right armpit and it looked like he may well pass out.  Stefan placed Kylie on the ground and went to Antar’s aid, removing his shoulder and chest plates and opening his fatigues so that he could see where the blood was coming from.  He found a neat little hole in the front of his right side and a ragged hole at the back.  He pulled his field dressing from his pouch and tore open the packet.  Carefully he strapped it over the ragged hole and sealed it with medi-foam.  He also sealed the smaller wound and made sure Antar was sitting comfortably as he gave him a shot of pain-ease. 

‘MEDIC!’ cried Stefan, ‘MEDIC!’

Stefan sat with Antar after checking to make sure that it was safe outside and did so until help arrived.  Once he was sure that Antar was in good hands, he slung Kylie over his shoulder and went to survey the battlefield.

Stefan walked among the corpses, their twisted forms lying all around.  There were many more Bohkin than Grymn but when ever he found an ally, he checked for signs of life but he wasn’t very lucky today…there were none.  He breathed deeply, sighed and said dryly…

‘Well Kylie, another day; another battle won’.

He turned back towards the gate and whistled as he strolled forwards.  There were graves to be dug and mead to be drunk.

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Mikkell
« on: October 08, 2014, 07:03:31 PM »

It was cold; so cold that the tips of Mikkell’s fingers were starting to get numb and he was wondering how long he could keep up with his current actions without dropping his SMG.  The icy water was up to his chin and as he carefully waded through it, he cautiously looked around to try and spot any unusual movement.  To his left were three more Grymn light –infantry troopers with the look of being as frozen as he was.  To his right were another six; including Sgt Freidl.  Together, the squad waded slowly towards the river bank, trying not to make a sound or ripple in the water that would give their presence away.  Although it was slow progress, they soon reached the bank and scraped themselves out of the water on their bellies; quickly finding cover in the bushes along the edge of the river bank.  With a signal, one of the troopers was sent out into the darkness to scout the area while the rest of the squad kept low and maintained an all-round defence.  After a few moments, the trooper returned; reporting that the area was clear and that they could relax their guard a fraction.  Sgt Freidl looked around the squad and whispered “it’s about time we got a brew on lads...Mikkell, you can take first watch”.  Mikkell hefted his SMG and, crouching low, took up a position nearby where he could keep a look out for any danger.

Staring out into the darkness, Mikkell wondered what he was doing there.  He had been brought up by a loving family, had been well schooled and had even been offered a well paying job at the local gunsmiths but he had decided to throw caution to the winds and join the army.  Mikkells father was extremely proud of his decision to serve in the Grymn forces but the rest of his family had been horrified.  They just couldn’t understand why he would want to leave the security of his home and go and put himself in harms way while serving in the military.  Mikkell had explained that there was minimal risk involved, especially because there had been no malicious contact from Sleiti or Bohkin forces for generations now but his family were very sceptical about the whole business...well, as it transpired, they had been right.  Although there were no Sleiti or Bohkin involved, there had been multiple incursions into Grymn space by other alien foes.  These new foes were especially problematic because they seemed to want to steal everything they could get their hands on and remain hidden while they stole.  When they had finally showed themselves, they proved to be highly proficient fighters; utilising low tech ballistic weapons and sharp blades to good effect.  The Grymn forces didn’t know what they were really called but they had been given the nickname of Noblins.

Noblins were small, green skinned aliens with an almost skeletal face and small beady eyes.  They spoke in sharp, shrill voices and had a keen desire to keep hold of everything that they had stolen.  They were usually finely dressed in high collared trench-coats and sturdy boots.  Their sharp claws and teeth meant that they were also a menace when unarmed and they would keep fighting even if their cause was hopeless.  They had even been known to chew off their own hands to escape bonds of confinement so muzzles were a common sight on captured Noblins.  At the current time, the Grymn council had no idea as to how they had arrived in Grymn space as no star-ships had been detected during the various Noblin incursions.  The council had agreed, however, that the Noblins represented a moderate threat to Grymn security and they were to be either wiped out, incarcerated or forced to leave the planet.  That was why Mikkell now found himself sitting in the bushes, shivering with cold and staring out into the blackness of night with a readied SMG for company.

“Shift’s up mate” said Durin, disturbing Mikkell’s concentration “the brews are on as well.”

“Cheers Durin, it’s been quiet here...let’s hope it stays like that.”

Mikkell quietly made his way back to the rest of the group; leaving Durin to carry on the watch.  He quickly found his squad clumped together around a lightless stove drinking tea from small tin cups.  He crouched low and quietly scampered towards them.  He nodded to those present, unshipped his small day-sack and removed his mug, tea and whitener from it.  He also found a small packet of fruit biscuits to go with his drink.  Pouring the hot water into his mug, Mikkell crouched low, shivering due to being so wet.  He could feel the warmth filtering through the mug and stirred the contents until they resembled tea.  He then sat down next to Fria and cupped his mug in both hands whilst taking small sips of tea.

“You look frozen solid!” whispered Fria “come here and snuggle, I’ll soon get you warm”.

“Cheers mate!” he whispered in return as he shuffled over to her and allowed her to put her arms around him to get some heat through his chilled muscles.  Fria rubbed his arms and hugged him close while he sipped his tea and he began to feel the chill lessen slightly.  He looked around and noticed that most of the squad were in huddles just like he was but he had been lucky as there were only two girls in the unit and he had managed to be on the receiving end of hugs from one of them.  There was no impropriety involved but he would rather be hugged by a girl than a boy any-day.

“You’re chilled to the bone” whispered Fria “you seriously need to get some meat on your bones!”

“You’re telling me!” he replied “I eat like a Devourer yet still I never put on weight...I could really do with a thick layer like Djoord has” he whispered while looking towards a rather portly Grymn sat next to the lightless stove.   Djoord looked over and grinned at him, he had seen that Mikkell was in the embrace of young lady and raised an eyebrow in mock disdain.

“Feth!” cried Durin from where he was hiding on watch “in-coming!”

The squad of Grymn dropped their mugs and grabbed their SMGs, quickly positioning themselves for all-round defence again.  They could hear a stumbling approach through the undergrowth from Durin’s direction.  They all braced themselves as a small, trench-coated Noblin burst from the cover of the bushes, drew two sharp swords and charged straight at the nearest Grymn.  Garyt managed to snap-fire a couple of rounds before the Noblin piled into him, knocking him to the ground.  Garyt fell back and was desperately defending himself with the stock of his rifle as wild flurries of sword blows reigned down on him.  The furious Noblin was screaming away in its horrible, chittering voice while darting malicious glances around those Grymn present.  Moments later, Durin burst through the same bush as the Noblin had and brought the butt of his SMG down hard on the top of the evil thing’s head with a loud crack.  It fell instantly unconscious and landed across Garyt with a thud.

“Cheers guys” said Garyt, looking around at the rest of the squad “it’s good to know that I can count on you lot”, the irony in his voice was almost opaque.

“What did you want us to do?” sneered Djoord “shoot at you both?”

“ could have done something” he replied, a bit crestfallen.

Sgt Freidl climbed to his feet and surveyed the still body of the Noblin.  “Mikkell, get some ties and bind its hands and feet...Durin, do you have a muzzle on you?  If you do, muzzle this devil”. 

In moments the Noblin was completely bound and considered to be in a safe enough condition to leave in a corner.  Durin was relieved by Gunar and along with the rest of the squad; quickly did a perimeter search to make sure that there were no more Noblins nearby.  Once things were deemed to be clear, the squad returned to their mugs and continued warming up again.  As the evening wore on, the Grymn began to sort things out so that they could bed down for the night.  A guard roster was drawn up, bivvies were erected and night time routine was sorted.  Those that were able to go to sleep went to bed and those that were due to take on a guard duty, stayed up and chilled out by the stove.  Everything settled down and the Noblin remained silent in the corner where he was left.
Morning came as quietly as the night had been.  The few Grymn that were awake, had started cooking breakfast and stirring the rest of the squad from their slumber.  Sgt Freidl climbed out of his bivvy, stretched and went over to see how the Noblin was getting on.

“Oh fething hell...” he cursed “where’s the fething Noblin gone?”

On the ground in front of him was a muzzle and some ties but no Noblin. 

The squad immediately grabbed for their SMGs...Except for Djoord...

“Has anyone seen my SMG?  I left it by my bivvy and it seems to have gone” he said.

“Where’s my pack gone?” asked Gunar.

“...and my Binoculars have walked!” intoned Marise.

After a brief search it was discovered that on top of an SMG, pack and binoculars, various other things had disappeared; including rations, some dog-tags and a few items of spare clothing. 

Freidl held his head in his hands...

“I bet they never had this problem when fighting Bohkin” he said “this will be fun to explain to the boss when we get back”.

Freidl sighed and ordered the camp to be cleared ready for the move out.  He gave Djoord his pistol and suggested that it would be a very bad idea for him to lose it.  Once every thing was ready, the squad was assembled, formed into a standard patrol formation and began to march off into the trees.  They were going to have to head back to base and report what had happened and replace the kit that had gone missing.  Freidl was downcast as he knew that his squad would be a laughing stock for allowing a fully trussed Noblin to not only escape but to take a bunch of kit with it.  He was not looking forward to walking into the Sgt’s mess after work either.

“Fething Noblins!” Cursed Freidl as he turned the squad towards the direction of base and tried to think of a way of making his embarrassing little experience sound less of a comedy...but he couldn’t.

From the bushes, a pair of beady eyes watched the squad depart.  A grin formed on an almost skeletal, green face as it began to look through Gunar’s pack.  It had been a good night’s haul for the Noblin.  The boss would be very happy with his new treasures...

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Kjaran.
« on: October 08, 2014, 06:56:29 PM »

Kjaran slammed himself against the rock wall as bullets whipped passed and ricocheted off the loose rubble where he had until recently been taking cover.

“Ana, have you managed to get through yet?  It’s getting a bit too warm for comfort around here”.

“Alpha control, this is Alpha one niner, we are pinned down at grid; figures 5165 6734.  Multiple hostiles are advancing on our position.  We are running low on payback and request immediate extraction; Over” shouted Ana into the microphone of her radio set.

“Alpha one niner, this is Alpha control, negative on extraction, supplies in bound; Out” was the rather curt reply.

“Sorry Sarge, we’re stuck here but control is sending supplies” Shouted Ana.

“Supplies!?  What the hell do they mean by supplies!?” was the rather bemused response from Kjaran.

Kjaran ducked down as he saw a Bohkin with a heavy machine gun aim in his direction and fire.  A steady stream of heavy calibre rounds slammed into the rock and ground nearby, kicking up great plumes of dust and debris.  Nearby there was a curse as Sven took a hit on his shoulder plate and was knocked to the ground; fortunately he was saved from harm by his trusty armour and he climbed to his feet and returned fire.  The Bohkin were massing nearby and appeared to be happy taking pot-shots at the Grymn patrol for now.  They hadn’t started to close in but seemed to be building up for a push in the near future.
The Grymn patrol was made up of five heavy infantry with an attached sniper.  They were armed with extremely effective weapons but were being pinned down as a result of the high level of incoming Bohkin fire.  Kjaran was the sergeant in charge and had made sure that all his troops had conserved their ammunition as much as they could but they were beginning to run low and were now getting to a point where they needed some help.  They were stuck and things were beginning to look very uncertain for them.  Kjaran was beginning to plan a desperate dash to freedom for his troops, when he noticed the sound of grav motors nearby.  He looked to his right and caught sight of a Grymn fast transport flying low over the rough terrain.  As it roared towards them, three large pallets fell from the back and hit the ground heavily in a shower of dust.

“Fething hell!” shouted Kjaran as the transport flew over head and disappeared “they’ve dropped the supplies too far away!”

Kjaran was furious.  He watched as some of the Bohkin broke off from the attack and started running towards the supplies.  His desperate dash for freedom was starting to look like the only option for his troops now.
Suddenly there was a grinding crunch from the supply crates and Kjaran looked towards them.  The sides had fallen away and they appeared to be getting taller.  Kjaran grabbed his monocular and watched as the contents of the crates began to unfold.  First they grew legs; then, what appeared to be a cockpit came into view.

“Sarge! “ shouted Ana “We’re getting comms chat from the supplies and they want to speak to you.”

Kjaran kept low and dashed over to Ana and grabbed the handset “this is Alpha one niner leader; send message; Over.” He said as bullets whipped up the dust where he had just been running.

A metallic voice replied “Alpha one niner leader; this is Eagle two.  It’s good to hear you are breathing; we’ll be joining you shortly; Out!”

Kjaran turned to Ana with a questioning look and she just shrugged her shoulders.  Neither had ever heard of call-sign Eagle before.  But whatever it was, appeared to be their only hope for survival at this moment in time so Kjaran was happy for any help he could matter where it came from.
Kjaran ducked again as incoming rounds whizzed passed him.  He shouted to his troops to start giving more aggressive return fire as supplies had arrived so they could afford to be a little less frugal.  He popped his head above cover and fired his pulse gun; punching a fist sized hole through a Bohkin.  He was about to fire again when the sound of heavy weapon fire caught his attention and he glanced towards it.  Where the supplies had landed there was a great deal of confusion.  Bohkin were running away from the area, amidst the sound of anti-personnel rockets and chain-gun fire.  Kjaran watched as bodies began to fly into the air as the rockets found their mark, and other Bohkin were being shredded by the concentrated fire from a chain-gun.  Amidst the carnage, three metal giants strode; firing in all directions as they moved towards the Grymn position.  Of the Bohkin that had gone to investigate the crates, none remained whole.
The Bohkin fire lessened and Kjaran dared to peer above his cover to see what was happening in the Bohkin position.  One of the larger Bohkin appeared to be shouting at a smaller one who was pointing at the metal giant’s approach.  A number of other Bohkin were looking rather frightened and were fidgeting rather uncontrollably.  Kjaran saw his opportunity and with a shout of “Rapid Fire!!” let loose a stream of pulse rounds, felling the confused aliens in their droves.  The other Grymn followed suit and the Bohkin began to take better cover and snap out of their bemused state for long enough to return fire.  Although there was dissention in the enemy ranks, they still remained fairly effective.

Suddenly the Bohkin position erupted in a huge series of explosions.  Kjaran and his patrol flattened themselves against the ground as debris began to fall all around them.  The whine of chain-guns could be heard above the din as the multiple impacts found their marks amongst the soft bodies of the Bohkin.  After what seemed an age, the noise lessened and ceased.  The Grymn patrol remained flat against the ground for a short while and listened for movement.   Kjaran was startled by a tap on the shoulder and rolled quickly to bring his weapon to bear.  He looked straight into the face of an impeccably dressed Grymn in a jet black flight-suit and helmet. 

“Sorry about the delay sergeant, we couldn’t leave until we’d toasted the mission...and we’d run out of mead” said the newcomer as he proffered his hand towards Kjaran; who grasped it and was helped to his feet.

“Sorry, sir...but I don’t recognise your unit” replied a quizzical looking Kjaran.

“That’s alright doesn’t exist” said the newcomer, who winked as he passed a small satchel towards Kjaran.

“What’s this?” asked Kjaran.

“Your supplies of course, sergeant” The officer replied with a smile.  He then turned on his heels and walked away.

Kjaran looked into the satchel and found five small pulse-gun power packs and a box of 20 sniper rounds.  He looked over towards the officer who was nimbly climbing into the cockpit of an armoured walking machine with various heavy weapons mounted on it.  It was painted in matt jet black and had a gloss black eagle, with spread wings, emblazoned across the front.  He then looked towards the Bohkin position and could see that it had been completely and utterly obliterated.  He returned his glance towards the armoured walker as it raised itself up from the crouched position it had been in, to allow the officer to climb in, and steadied itself on sturdy, armoured legs.  From the cockpit the officer could be seen to flip down a monocle and flick some overhead switches before he glanced a look at Kjaran, grinned broadly and looked to his front, before firing up the motors and striding off; closely followed by two other walkers.

The Grymn patrol was left in stunned silence; staring after the walkers as they disappeared into the distance.

“What the hell was that?” asked Ana.

“That” said Kjaran “was a delivery of supplies” and he handed each of his troops the single re-loads that had been delivered.

“Humph!” said Sven “they could have bought some chocolate!”

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Silvia.
« on: October 07, 2014, 07:34:34 AM »

Silvia sat at the bar.  Her hair was bunched into two auburn pony tails; her flawless complexion was accented with a neutral lipstick and the merest hint of blusher; her perfect, hour-glass figure was tightly enclosed in a green, silk mini-dress with a plunging neckline and enough support to produce a cleavage that every male in the bar was currently wishing they could dive into.  All eyes were on her as she sipped her soft-drink while spinning her beer-mat; carefully lining up each edge with the edge of the bar before turning to the next one.  It was almost 20-00hrs when Silvia looked towards the opening door at the person entering.  The new patron was dressed in standard Grymn fatigues, minus the armour plates and was rather dusty with a grimy face and hair matted with oil.  Silvia waved and the new arrival came over, kissed her on the lips and sat down next to her.  It was Hella and as she sat down, most of the males watching sat open mouthed as the sound of broken hearts echoed around the bar.

Hella and Silvia had been friends ever since they enlisted.  Neither of them was happy with all the attention they were getting from their male counterparts so they came up with a way of avoiding it.  They pretended to be lovers and then dealt with the only males fool-hardy enough to push their luck by using the chain of command and the rather brutal equal opportunity laws that existed in the Grymn armed forces.  After basic training, the two girls followed different paths; Hella joined the light infantry and Silvia went for special operations and trained to be a sniper; a good one at that.
As Hella and Silvia sat chatting at the bar; occasionally touching an arm or brushing a cheek; the door opened again and in walked Edgar, in full battledress.  He walked over and stood next to the girls and quietly cleared his throat.

“Silvia, there’s a job on” he said.

“When?” replied Silvia.

“Now, I’m afraid.  You’d best say your farewells and come with me”.

Silvia did as she was asked and left Hella at the bar.

“What is so important that you feel the need to drag me away from a night out?” she asked.

“How does (he glanced over a shoulder to make sure no one else could hear) a Sleiti sound?” he said, with a glint in his eye.

“Really?!” she said, almost exploding with excitement “here?”

“Yes and yes” was the reply.

They walked hurriedly towards the barracks and began the preparations for the job.

Silvia slid her rifle into its bag; it smelt strongly of gun oil after its recent clean.  She packed her armour piercing rounds in with the standard Grymn-stopper rounds in her webbing pouches and made sure she had enough clothing, provisions and miscellaneous equipment in her pack for the job ahead.  She carefully checked her communications equipment before clipping it to the yolk of her webbing and tucking the headset into her pouch for the journey.  While she packed, Edgar briefed her on the location of her target, how they were going to get there and when the target was expected to be viable.  He showed Silvia a few of the most recent pictures of the Sleiti dignitary that was to be disposed of and she smiled; she had never been given the honour of assassinating a Father before and she relished the opportunity.

Edgar and Silvia jumped from the grav-vehicle and ran into the cover of the trees before it rose into the air and darted off, keeping below the tree line for cover.  By now both of the Grymn were fully camouflaged with a full body leaf-suit and cam-cream covering any flesh that was bared to the elements.  They began to trot towards the target zone with weapons ready, just in case they were expected.  They moved as stealthily as they could; using every bit of cover and making sure that they left as little trace of their passing as they could.  As they neared the snipers nest (the nick name for where the sniper lies in wait), they slowed down, switched to hand signals for communications and kept as low as they could to ensure that they weren’t spotted.  Edgar had his scanner set to full range and he was starting to pick up the blips of the enemy forces in the camp that they were approaching (they were surprised that there weren’t more, especially bearing in mind the dignitary that was present...they must not have been expecting any trouble).  Soon the final hand-signal came and Silvia ducked into the cover of some dense scrub and started setting up her firing position while Edgar kept watch, scanning the area for any threats.  Once she was happy, Silvia signalled to Edgar and he broke communication silence to inform army command that ‘the bird was in the coop’.

Silvia settled down and with the help of Edgar and his scanner, pin-pointed where the Sleiti was expected to appear.  It wasn’t too difficult as his field shelter had been elaborately decorated with gold symbols and silk hangings (the Bohkin were extremely foolish to bring such attention to their honoured guest...they must have thought that they were immune from attack or something!).  As Silvia spied the tent through the magnifying scope of her sniper rifle she was almost startled as the rigid fabric door slid open and her target appeared, carrying a bowl of what appeared to be steaming water and a towel.  He placed the bowl on a small foldable table and stretched; his bare, grey torso shining with sweat in the evening light.  Through the scope, Silvia could see his jet black eyes and his pointed ears very clearly and there was no disputing that this was a Sleiti Father.  She felt a kick from Edgar and she came to her senses.  She carefully loaded a clip of armour piercing rounds into her rifle and took aim.  She slowed her breathing and prepared to take her last breath before firing.  She relaxed, aimed directly at the side of his head and took her last breath.  Carefully, she started to squeeze the trigger.  She could see the vein in his temple throb through the powerful scope of her rifle.  She squeezed further and just before the rifle fired, the Sleiti turned to face her directly and smiled.  He knew she was there; he knew what was coming and as the armour piercing round left the barrel, he didn’t flinch or make a sound.  He was still staring at her when the impact hit him cleanly in the top of his forehead, taking out the rear of his brainpan in an explosion of gory mist and debris.  He slumped forward onto the table, sending the bowl flying as the legs gave way and he tumbled onto the ground as the blood pumped arterially from his body.  Silvia quickly and mechanically, switched to the laser designator setting of her rifle and aimed it at what appeared to be an ammunition dump and gave the signal to Edgar.  He acknowledged the signal and said into the communicator ‘eerie one, fire-flash’.  Suddenly there was a low whine coming from behind them.  From her position in the nest, Silvia could see little commotion from the Bohkin camp; they seemed to be wandering around aimlessly as if stunned by the loss of their Sleiti master.  As the whine became louder a few of the Bohkin came to their senses and began issuing orders but they were too late as a Grymn grav-tank squadron loomed up from behind the sniper’s position and trained their weapons on the designated target.  As one they opened fire with rail-guns and heavy pulse weapons; annihilating the ammunition store in a blaze of brilliance.

Silvia threw herself upright and screamed.  Her nightshirt was soaked with sweat and was clinging to her shapely form in see through patches.  She stared at her hands until she realised that she was awake and looked at the clock.  It was 02:00 hours; the same time as she had awoken every night that month and in much the same manner.  She climbed out of bed and walked to her sink, switching on the small lamp above it.  She stared at her gaunt and weary looking face in the mirror and ran some cold water into the sink.  When she had finished she looked down from the mirror and at the water; in its surface she could just make out the jet black eyes and the smiling face of the Sleiti father.  It seemed to laugh at her as her fingers broke the surface of the water and as she splashed her face the image splintered into a myriad of shapes and disappeared.

Silvia knew that it would return.

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - Skali
« on: October 06, 2014, 10:30:55 PM »

Skali sprinted for the cover of a shattered wall as fast as his legs could carry him.  The sound of battle was all around him.  He looked over to his left and saw Lars fall to the ground as his shoulder disintegrated in a shower of blood and plasma.  Beyond Lars another trooper, who the fog of battle had rendered anonymous, was felled as his helmet ruptured after a hit from a sniper’s round; brain matter spewing from the ragged exit wound.  Skali snapped his head to the front and looked over the wall.  He could see hordes of Bohkin all around and suddenly realised that things were not going well.  Everywhere he looked, Grymn were falling to the intensity of the incoming fire.  Skali snapped off a few rounds from his SMG and was rewarded with two kills.  He ducked back into cover, waited for a few seconds and then popped his head up to fire a few more rounds.  He didn’t get to pull the trigger.

Skali felt the sharp coldness of water on his face and he choked as it filled his nose and mouth.  He spluttered and turned his head to one side, gulping for air.  He tried to open his eyes but found that only one would open.  He looked around quickly, trying to find out what was going on but his vision was very blurred; he could only make out a few shapes and some movement.

“Prishhonner ish awake!” a voice said.  It sounded like it was having difficulty coping with speech, or had some form of dental problem.  After the sound of someone sucking teeth, the voice spoke again.

“Prishhonner had nyyche drink?  Prishhonner talksh now.” 

Skali tried hard to focus and began to get a picture of the speaker.  It was a Bohkin; a male Bohkin with beady little eyes, a little button nose and fangs protruding from its mouth; pointing upwards from a jutting lower jaw.  It appeared to be smartly dressed in what appeared to be a white doctor’s gown.  Skali noticed that he had a small bag with him.

“I wantshh to hear where yooshh from” said the doctor Bohkin.

Skali said nothing. 

“I wantshh to hear where yooshh from” repeated the Bohkin. 

Skali didn’t say anything but felt a sharp pain in his jaw as something heavy struck him, tipping him over.  For the first time he realised that he had been strapped to a chair.  He was in such a daze that he hadn’t even thought about moving so it came as a bit of a surprise when he couldn’t arrest his fall and his head struck the floor, making him struggle for consciousness.  In moments, the chair had been stood back up and Skali looked into the eyes of the Bohkin again.  He felt a dull ache through his jaw and when he tried to tense his muscles he realised that the pain it generated meant that it was broken.

“Shilly chylde” Said the Bohkin “the farshhers mussht be shad that you show shilly”.  He reached into his small bag and pulled out a small metal implement.  He held it up in front of Skali and said nothing.  A moment later Skali felt pain like he never had before.  It was so sharp that he had to catch his breath.  His fingertips tingled and his legs twitched uncontrollably as fire engulfed his spine.  He struggled desperately but could feel the room closing in as his consciousness faded.  Just as he was about to pass out, the pain ceased and the room began to return to normal.

“Where yoosh from, shilly chylde?” asked the Bohkin again.

Skali carried on with the silence.  He doubted if he could have spoken too much anyway as his jaw was throbbing and his throat was as dry as a desert.  He gasped as the pain in his spine returned; this time it was even worse and his arms shook as badly as his legs.  Skali drooled uncontrollably as he began to lose control of his senses.  He cried out as wave after wave of shearing pain wracked his body and the room started to dim again.  Suddenly the pain dimmed as quickly as it had arrived and Skali was brought back to full consciousness with another bucket of water.

“Yoosh very shilly, anshher queshhtion and we shhtop fun”

Skali gazed in the Bohkin’s direction and still said nothing.  His head was swimming, his vision was blurred and he was struggling to come to terms with his situation.  Without warning, the pain returned and the room went black as Skali finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

Day after day, Skali was shocked awake with water and tortured to unconsciousness.  He wasn’t fed very often and was given just enough water to keep him hanging on to life by a mere thread.  After a few days, his jaw became infected and along with the throbbing pain came the smell of gangrene.  It didn’t stop the Bohkin dragging Skali from his cell, strapping him to a chair and inflicting the scouring pain that he had begun to become accustomed to.  Through it all, he said nothing.

Skali lost count of the days he had been in captivity.  He knew that he was near to the end of his torment as he was having difficulty breathing and felt the continuous nausea of septicaemia.  His vision was blurred and he had become photophobic.  He managed an inward, ironic smile as he wondered what sort of state he looked.  He was drifting off to dream-world when the door of his cell opened again and he felt the strong grip of two Bohkin as he was dragged off to his chair again.  He felt the straps tighten around his wrists and neck again and gazed, bleary eyed, at the Bohkin facing him.

“Yoosh Tired, chylde” said the Bohkin “yoo shay where yoosh from and pain endsh”.

Skali looked at his tormentor. He could feel his own pulse trying to burst from his neck as his heart pounded heavily, in his chest.  He could already sense a dimness filling the room and realised that he wasn’t long for the world.  He tried to focus and shifted his position so that he could look straight into the Bohkins beady little eyes.

“I am Grymn” he said.

There was a deafening roar as the Bohkin in front of Skali was vapourised in a rush of plasma energy.  Chaos erupted as black clad troops burst into the room, killing every Bohkin in sight with the precision of a surgeon.  In moments, all was quiet and one of the troops rushed up to Skali and began to release him from the chair.  He stopped for a moment and raised his mirrored visor.

“You’re safe now” said the Grymn.

Skali smiled as his vision failed and the room went black.

The sun shone down as brightly today, as it ever had in the past.  Standing on the parade ground in front of over a thousand Grymn; in parade order, was captain Torsten.  He was dressed in an immaculately presented, white suit of powered armour.  On his chest were many medals that were a testament to his martial prowess and bravery.  His grey hair was greased flat and his beard was neatly trimmed.  Torsten looked up and down the lines of the many Grymn on parade.  There wasn’t a single foot out of place or rifle out of position.  Every single Grymn was immaculately turned out.  They all wore their polished medals and their smartest battledress and Torsten looked upon them with the supreme pride of a parent watching over his children.  The parade stood completely immobile and in complete silence.  Torsten cleared his throat and began his speech.

“Today, we have the honour and privilege to celebrate courage beyond the call of duty.  Today we stand in the company of giants.  What we witness today is a testament to the bravery, martial ability and utter dedication to duty that a Grymn soldier represents.  Every one of you should feel nothing but pride as you stand here today”.

The sound of a single trumpet echoed across the parade ground as a party of silver clad Grymn, with high plumed helmets slow-marched onto the square.  Their swords were held vertically in an iron grip, their shiny black boots clacked in unison on the concrete under their feet.  Between each pair of immaculate guards hovered a casket.  On the lid of each casket was laid a helmet and the weapons that the Grymn inside had used while he fought.  The first two caskets had twin pistols, the next one had a pulse gun, two more had a pistol and power axe and finally, a few paces further back came a casket with an SMG laid across it.
The casket party solemnly marched towards Torsten and all but the final casket passed in front of him and was set down on a red carpet to the right of Torsten.  The Casket with the SMG was set down on a pedestal to Torsten’s left.

“PAAARADE!  GENERAL SALUTE...PREEEESENT ARMS!” sounded across the square as the parade officer issued his order.

With incalculable precision the entire parade ground moved in complete unison, presenting their weapon types in a show of respect.  The lone trumpet played a short, haunting tune and was silent.


Again, the Grymn moved as one and their weapons were brought to order.

Torsten began to speak again.

“Brakki Silvertooth:   Order of Bravery...posthumously awarded.  Frekki Strongarm:  Order of Bravery...posthumously awarded.  Gerri Axebearer:  Order of Bravery and Star of Valour...posthumously awarded.  Anja Firegaze:  Star of Valour...posthumously awarded.  Olaf Greybeard:  Star of Valour...posthumously awarded.”  Torsten paused for a moment, turned towards the five caskets, stood to attention and saluted them.  He turned towards the parade again and continued.

“Within these five caskets lie the bodies of five warriors.  Each one died carrying out their duty to the highest possible standard and with fire in their hearts and bellies.  Each one gave their all, for their brothers and sisters who fought beside them and each one made the perfect sacrifice.”

Torsten paused again and slowly walked towards the lone casket.  He brought himself to attention and saluted the casket, just as he had done with the other five.  He turned to face the parade again and continued his speech.

“Skali Ironfist:  Most Beneficent Order of Valour, Iron Cross and medal of leadership...awarded posthumously.”

Torsten steeled himself and continued.

“Among those pillars of valour, there was a giant among Grymn.  Not only did trooper Ironfist lead his brothers forward after his platoon and squad leaders had fallen but he also managed to take and hold a critical objective under the most severe onslaught.  When the objective was secured, he further advanced into a Bohkin force that heavily outnumbered his unit, providing valuable protection for a pinned platoon and taking a heavy toll of the attackers.  He continued to lead his unit valiantly until he succumbed to his wounds and was captured.  For seven weeks he endured the humiliation of torture and spoke not a word.  Although he was broken of body, his Grymn spirit continued to burn as brightly as a sun.  As his rescue was about to begin, his final words were picked up on our monitoring system...I am Grymn.”  Torsten stared at the assembled Grymn “No truer words were ever spoken”.

“PAAARADE!  PREESENT ARMS!”  Bawled the parade officer.

The Grymn snapped through their drill movements in perfect unison.  The trumpeter played a general call to arms as the caskets were led away and when they had gone, the parade officer followed up with:


“March off the officers!”...

Hasslefree Gaming and Fluffery / Grymn Fluff - A Chance Encounter.
« on: October 06, 2014, 07:55:17 PM »
A Chance Encounter.

Horgan stood in a braced position, tracking the forest line with his mini-gun.  Seven other Grymn were doing the same with their SMGs and grenade-launchers.  They were silent and listening for the slightest sound of movement.  Ingrid was kneeling beside Torek; administering medical aid for a gun-shot wound to his side.  He was in pain but would survive.

Suddenly a Grymn to the left of Horgan fired his SMG into the trees and was rewarded with a squeal of pain; quite clearly of Bohkin origin.  Further shots were fired by various other Grymn and then quiet again.  Horgan looked left and right.  It was as if he could sense something was wrong.  Intuitively he ducked down as a stream of machine-gun fire parted the air where he had recently stood and whistled off into the distance.  Horgan squeezed the trigger and the forest line exploded into a kaleidoscope of debris.  Many screams were heard as the onslaught shredded trees, leaves and Bohkin scouts with equal malice.  When Horgan relaxed his trigger finger, the sound of fleeing creatures could be heard.  It would appear that the Bohkin had retreated for the time being.

Horgan remained where he stood and continued to scan the tree line.  He knew that Bohkin were sneaky customers and almost wished that they would prove him right.  The group of Grymn had been ambushed but had managed to defend themselves aggressively enough to see off the attackers.  Unfortunately, Torek had been hit in the first volley of gunfire and that really annoyed Horgan.  He felt that they were not being careful enough.

To the right Horgan heard movement. He swung his weapon to bear and waited.  The movement was getting closer and it was as if there was no wish to conceal the noise.  In fact Horgan could hear the chirpy noise of the Bohkin screaming at the trees, almost pleadingly.  Within moments a wild eyed Bohkin burst in to the clearing in front of him.  It didn’t have a weapon but had wild staring eyes that were too busy staring at the trees to even notice Horgan.  In fact the screaming Bohkin ran straight at him chirping wildly.  In moments it had reached him and had bumped into him as it tried to run past, tripping over Horgan’s leg in the process.  Horgan was about to react when the Bohkin leapt to its feet and tore off into the trees on the other side of the clearing.  Horgan watched as the creature ran wildly through the undergrowth with no apparent thought for self preservation.  A further noise from where the Bohkin had appeared from caused Horgan to turn around.  More movement was forth coming, closely followed by more Bohkin.  None had weapons and they all looked as terrified as the first one.  Horgan watched as they too ran past in panic.  He returned his gaze to the entrance point again and immediately felt a wave of nausea flow through him as his weapon fell with a thump, to the floor.  He felt his legs buckle and he dropped to his hands and knees as with a huge retch, he vomited.  His vision had started to blur but he looked over to the rest of his squad members and saw that they were equally affected.  He tried to raise his head to look where he had been a moment previously but was forced to vomit again as a new, more intense wave of nausea flooded through him.  He had never felt so wretched in his life.  Horgan held his breath and forced himself to look to where the Bohkin had come from.  It took a huge effort but he managed to raise his head far enough to see a large pair of two-toed feet in front of him.

Almost as quickly as the feeling had arrived, the nausea disappeared.  Horgan reached instinctively for his mini-gun but it was no longer where it had dropped.  His training kicked in and he threw himself over to one side and leapt into a fighting crouch.  In front of him was a tall figure with a broad crowned head looking at him.  Horgan felt a lesser feeling of sickness as his mind was filled with a sighing voice.

“Stand down soldier, your work is done for today” said the voice.

Horgan looked at the face of the figure in front of him and noticed that it had not spoken to him but had projected its voice directly into his head.  The face smiled as if it understood the confusion written all over Horgan’s face.

“We come to you as friends” said the voice in Horgan’s mind again.

Horgan passed out.

When he came too, Horgan was lying next to Ingrid.  She had applied a cold flannel to his brow and was speaking tenderly to him.

“It’s good to see that you are awake” she said, “We have some new friends for you to meet”.

Horgan sat up and immediately looked into the deep black pits of one of the newcomers eyes.  He felt a very slight feeling of sickness as a voice filled his head again.

“We are sorry for the unease that you feel when we speak with you but some are more sensitive than others to our method of communication” it said.

Horgan looked at the creature in front of him thoroughly for the first time.  It was exceptionally tall; being almost twice the height of a Grymn, was slender and had the usual pattern of two arms, two legs, a torso and a head.  It had bare feet with two fat toes and three-fingered hands.  The face seemed friendly enough but was obviously alien and it was crowned with a thick, bony ridge around the top of its skull.  All it wore was a cloak, a tabard and a few trinkets on a belt and it carried a staff.

“I am the one called Zuuh’tah and I am known as the walker among tribes” It said “you are known as Huurgaan and you reap the life grains with your death-giver”.

“That is true” said Horgan as he sat upright and propped himself up with his hands on the floor “but I only kill those that mean me harm...Zoota”

“Yes...we have seen this today” replied Zuuh’tah.

“We?” questioned Horgan.

“Yes, we” he replied, calmly gesturing with an open, upturned palm towards a small group of similar looking aliens over near the tree line.  Some were dressed as he was and some wore light armour pieces and carried rifle styled weaponry.

Horgan returned his gaze to the alien and asked what they wanted from his squad.

“We wish to be allies with the tribe of Grymmmn” Said Zuuh’tah “it is a small thing to ask...yes?”

“But we don’t know can we be allies until we know that we can trust one another” Horgan replied.

“You may trust us because you would have been easy to make it otherwise” came the reply.

“Fair point...but I am no ambassador” Horgan said “you must meet with our lords to discuss terms of allegiance”.

“At some point, we will discuss terms with your lords but today we are content to have made first contact with your tribe of Grymmmn” it said “and now that we have, it is time for us to depart”.

Zuuh’tah stood and looked thoughtfully at Horgan for a moment, turned around and strolled towards the tree line again.  As he disappeared through the undergrowth a whispering voice filled Horgan’s mind again...

“We are watching your tribe and will return when the time is right” said the voice.

Horgan looked over to where the other aliens had stood and of their presence, nothing could be seen.

“What the feth just happened?” queried Horgan, as he spat on the ground nearby.

“I think it was hello” said Ingrid.

“I guess so” he replied.

“Right, lets get packed up and get home...we have to tell the hierarchy what happened here” said Sgt Reiks.

The squad brought itself to its senses and began the bustle of getting ready to move.  In a few moments Horgan, the Sgt and the rest of the Grymn were purposefully walking off towards camp.  It had been a strange day and some people would be sure to think they were mad but in time, they would see differently.

And so the Grymn met the Delsertis for the first time, knowing that it would not be the last......

WIPs of Doom / Inso's WIP of Doom!
« on: September 13, 2014, 10:24:30 PM »
Arriving soon :D

Libertee's Miscellaneous Musings II / It's a funny old life.
« on: August 26, 2014, 10:19:24 PM »
I've just got used to really enjoying my work (no sarcasm... I genuinely love my job). Being a member of the team that has brought/is bringing the Puma Mk2 helicopter in to service in the RAF has been a challenge and a privilege...

... I got a phone call today.

It looks like I'll be going to the Middle East for six months, early next year.

It is tough when you have to tell your family something like that.

Well... I can safely say that my life is rarely dull :D!

Ideas, Inspiration & Thoughts / UnDoD 2014 chat.
« on: June 30, 2014, 07:30:21 PM »
It'll never fly...

They mostly come at night... mostly...

Which one will you choose?

I am thinking of 'it'll never fly'... it is just a case of choosing some miniatures... :D

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